Even you are not invicible
by Oblivian03
Summary: Everyone falls sick. It was just a matter of how sick one fell that determined the level of care one would receive. One shot. For a prompt.


**I do not own the Hobbit or any rights to the book of movies. If I did, DOS would be already out here.**

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**Alright, this was from a prompt from So-Sings-Nightingales; Dwalin is sick and the company looks after him. I agreed to do it because I think that there aren't enough fanfics on here with a sick or injured Dwalin and even he has to get sick sometimes. So I hope you enjoy this one shot (it may end a little weird, but I think it is alright).**

**Also, for those of you who read my other stories, updates may not happen for a while (until next year even - early on though so don't worry) because of Christmas, and then straight after I am on holidays overseas with my family so cannot access my laptop. Fun. -_-**

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**EVEN YOU ARE NOT INVINCIBLE**

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"For the hundredth time, I am fine!" Dwalin half bellowed, only to follow up with a loud sneeze, disproving his earlier statement. Balin raised his eyebrows at his younger brother.

"You certainly don't look fine," he said in a disapproving voice. Dwalin glared at the white bearded dwarf.

"What would you know?" he growled, sniffing at the same time in an attempt to cease his running nose. Balin hid a smile at his brother's attitude towards admitting that he was sick.

"Obviously the rain hasn't mixed well with you," the older dwarf said. Dwalin snorted in contempt and pushed forward, ignoring his brother as he drew his cloak tighter around himself.

Balin was always trying to fuss over him whenever the older dwarf assumed he was sick or injured, from the time when they had both been tiny lads right up until now when Dwalin was far more than capable of looking after himself just fine. He sniffed again, this time following up with a half muffled cough, eyes watering from being squeezed shut so tightly. The warrior then turned to glare at a bird who was regarding him with its head tilted to one side.

"I'm NOT sick," he rumbled, fingers stiff from the cold air and the rain as he denied all truth of the matter.

"I didn't say you were," an annoyingly cheerful voice said from behind him. Dwalin hunched even further down in an attempt to ward off the talkative dwarf.

"Go away, Bofur," he mumbled darkly.

"Sorry," the toymaker said, coming up beside him, almost shoulder to shoulder with the taller dwarf, "I didn't quite catch what you said."

"I said go away," Dwalin repeated in a clear voice so as not to be mistaken. Bofur, however, decided to ignore him.

"You know, you should try smiling for once in a while," Bofur informed him in a jolly tone, a large grin plastered right across his face, "You never know. Some people might actually grow to like you and before you know it, you'll find yourself with some friends. That is, of course, once they get past your more or less intimidating outer appearance," he added onto the end.

"I don't know what's so hard about leaving me alone," Dwalin grumbled, stifling a cough before it could force its way up his throat.

"You know, I have you all figured out," Bofur said, a thoughtful look upon his face. Dwalin resisted the urge to both roll his eyes and sneeze.

"You do, huh?" he said with no small amount of sarcasm, "I cannot wait to hear this." Bofur sent him a look before opening his mouth to accept the insincere invitation to share his thoughts.

"I think you just like to put up a front to warn people off. Inside I bet you are this nice and mushy duplicate of yourself," the toymaker said with some glee. Dwalin let out a heavy breath of air.

"You sure you cannot just leave me be?" he asked in desperation, "You are giving me a headache." The last part was not entirely true. Dwalin had already had the headache for a while now, and it was steadily growing worse, making him feel lightheaded and dizzy.

"I know your secret desires," Bofur said with an air of significance, "You desire to let loose for once and-"

The toymaker was cut off as he received a mouthful of dirt, giving a short cry as the full weight of the dwarf he had been teasing in good humour fell on top of him. Dwalin closed his eyes against his brother's alarmed shout, glad to be rid of Bofur's maddening chatter at last.

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"He's coming to," a voice cried above him. Dwalin groaned in despair, cracking open his eyes to get the worst over with. Bofur's face was there to greet him, every part of it large and uncomfortably close.

"Get away from me," he growled, none too happy about his welcoming committee, head throbbing painfully as light assaulted his eyes. Bofur's face surprisingly let up, only to be replaced by that of Dwalin's older brother.

"Now will you admit to being sick?" the white bearded dwarf asked with a hint of the 'I told you so' tone in his voice.

"Now will you let me up?" Dwalin shot back, clearly unhappy with being the centre of attention for the company. Balin's face, however, had disappeared, Oin taking the old dwarf's place above the seasoned warrior.

"You passed out," the company healer informed Dwalin with an air of superiority. The seasoned warrior just stared at him, eyebrows raised. He held his tongue however, if only to escape a coughing fit building itself up in his chest.

"Maybe we should let him rest for a while," Dori piped up from somewhere outside of Dwalin's field of vision, "He does look a little off." Oin opened his mouth to speak.

"I don't need to rest," the bald warrior implied, responding immediately to cut Oin off before the healer could say anything. The warrior sat, pushing himself up with his arms and making as if to stand. Thorin, however, would have none of it.

"Dori is right," the company leader said to his old friend, Dwalin glaring at the dark haired dwarf, "And it will do no harm to delay a bit in the journey." His words, like always, were final, and at them, Dwalin let himself flop back down to the ground with a groan.

"Traitor," he mumbled under his breath as the rest of the company busied themselves with setting up a camp and as he watched Thorin's retreating back, Dwalin could have sworn that the usually stoic dwarf had flashed him a small smile.

After staying in his place on the ground for a few more moments, Dwalin finally mustered his strength together and stood somewhat unsteadily on his own two feet. He turned to move to an area out of the way of the other company members, his head feeling like an anvil and sneezing once which was immediately followed by several sharp coughs. Turning, the warrior found himself facing the one of the four dwarves he did not want anywhere near him.

"You're surprisingly heavy," Bofur remarked, following the bald dwarf to a tree on the outskirts of the area the company had chosen to rest in.

"And you would know that how exactly?" Dwalin growled at him, his mood turned foul from his current state of health.

"Well, you sort of fell on top of me when you decided to give your brother a damn good scare," the toymaker said in a slightly ruffled tone. Dwalin grunted almost apologetically in response.

"It was your own fault you were standing there in the first place," he said after a short pause, believing the blame not to be just on himself, "I did tell you to go away multiple times." The warrior slouched against the thick trunk of a large tree, sliding down it as he allowed his legs to fold up beneath him. He sniffed loudly, his nose beginning to run again.

Across the other side of the camp, Fili and Kili were causing problems to unfold as they danced around Bombur, having sent both him and the yet to be filled stew pot tumbling. Dwalin was just glad their energies were not focus on him, for the warrior highly doubted he would be able to survive their antics with his head splitting headache. Still, the noise created by the ruckus was enough to have him grimacing involuntarily. Dwalin coughed again, more harshly this time, drawing the more concerned side out of the dwarf beside him.

"Are you sure you're not all that sick?" Bofur asked, a small frown gracing his face as he inspected the burly dwarf next to him, "Because your face looks all pale and sweaty and that cough does not sound at all healthy."

Dwalin groaned for the third time that day, leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree as he squeezed his eyes shut against the world. He felt hot and cold, and chills were running along his limbs causing both his hands and feet to shake. Another cough escaped him, lingering in the air as he hacked away.

"Look, stay here, alright," the warrior heard Bofur say frantically, "I'll get Oin. Just don't move." And then the toymaker was off, running towards the half deaf healer at the same time he was calling Oin's name. Dwalin heard other voices approaching, but as their worrying grew closer, he drew further away, losing himself yet again in a state of oblivion.

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Dwalin could feel the heat of a crackling fire warming his left side to an almost uncomfortable temperature. He shifted slightly, the material of several blankets shifting with him as he pulled one arm up to rub at his face. Opening his eyes, the tall and burly warrior blinked several times, surprised to find a black and starry sky above him.

"Don't try to get up, Oin's orders. You are to stay in bed until he deems you well enough," a familiar voice informed him. Dwalin turned his head to see Balin sitting a few feet away from him. "You have a fever," his brother continued, "And a high one at that."

"Thorin will be pleased at the delay," Dwalin commented. Balin just shook his head, a small smile drifting across his face.

"Thorin is worried about you," the older of the two said, "As is the rest of the company."

"Then where are the others if they are so worried?" Dwalin asked, too tired to really bring himself to care.

"Sleeping," Balin told him, slapping his brother's hand as the ill dwarf attempted to pull the blankets off himself, "Keep them on."

"I'm boiling though," Dwalin complained, his voice surprisingly whiny. Balin stooped over to pick something up before straightening again. Dwalin eyed him funny when a wet cloth was then placed upon his noticeably hot brow.

"It's to help keep the fever down," Balin told him, catching his brother's look, "You should know this." Dwalin grumbled an inaudible and somewhat weak protest to the treatment which his older sibling chose to ignore. The seasoned warrior was glad he did too, for, though he would not admit it outright, he did not mind being fussed over from time to time.

"Whatever this is, it had better go away before tomorrow," Dwalin grumbled with a yawn after a length of silence between him and his brother, a silence that was punctured every now and then by coughing.

"I doubt it," Balin replied, continue to dab at the head of his brother, keeping one eye on the fire going bedside the pair, "Even you are not invincible to sickness no matter what you seem to think. You should rest, it will help you to get over this faster."

"But I'm not tired," Dwalin mumbled back, even as his eyes drifted close once again.

Balin smiled upon his younger brother, dropping his brow to brush the sleeping warrior's own heated one before continuing on with his ministrations, humming quietly to himself in the night.

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**Before you ask, Dwalin has the flue. **

**Please review and tell me what you think. Also, if you have any prompts, I am more than happy to hear them out (I may not be able to get to them for a while though...)**


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